


To Get To You

by mltra



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M, Mentions of Rape, No Homophobic Yosuke because we don't do that here, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, tags added as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 17:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13641129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mltra/pseuds/mltra
Summary: As the fog lowered over Inaba and the train departed, a dark figure wobbled out of the train station, vomited over the carefully planted foxgloves, and collapsed on the stairs.





	1. The Beginning - Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I made a whole damn new account to post this fic. It's not the greatest, and it's not the most fun or heart-touching fic, but I wrote it and I'll continue to do so. It's edited, but if I find mistakes I'll continue to come back and fix it up.

“Hanamura, you’re lucky I didn’t lock you up for what you did.”

Yosuke gulped. His palms were uncomfortably sweaty and he resisted the urge to wipe them on his pants. Detective Dojima did that to people, and his demeanor practically petrified the teen in front of him.

“Y-yes sir!” Yosuke squeaked out, inwardly cringing at his cracking voice. “I promise, I’ll never do anything like this again!”

“You better not.” Dojima grunted. “Now get out of here. Your parents must be worried sick. Remember to pay the fine by the date noted”

Yosuke bowed to the older man, wanting to be out as soon as possible. He couldn’t believe he got fined for an accident! It was just his luck too, he’s been saving up to buy a motorbike. As he turned, he ran straight into another officer’s chest. Clutching his nose, he began to spew out apologies.

“S-sorry sir! I didn’t mean to, I’ll be-”

His voice faded as he caught sight of the young man trailing behind the officer. His face was made up (not over-done, just enough to bring out his features), though his eyeliner and lips were smeared, evidence that it had been on for a while. His silver hair was tousled, though still combed through, so it wasn’t enough to look sloppy. Especially in what the guy was _wearing._

His suit was tailored to him almost perfectly, fitting every contour of his body. 

Not that Yosuke was looking.

The guy’s demeanour didn’t fit his looks at all. He was curled in on himself, face resting in a soft frown. His eyebrows were knit together tight, in worry, maybe? And one thin hand clutched desperately to the officer leading him, like a lifeline, away from Yosuke.

The officer cleared his throat, stepping around him. He whispered something quick into Dojima’s ear, and Yosuke jumped when stern eyes fell on him, and Dojima’s voice rang out.

“Actually, Hanamura, can you wait for a second? We might be able to do something about that fine of yours.”

And ever the one to take chances, Yosuke sat down in the lobby, and waited.

 

***

So that was how Yosuke Hanamura, King of Junes, wound up in a room with both the hottest guy he’s ever met, and the terrifying man who arrested him.

The silver haired man stared down into his lap, not bothering to look up when Yosuke entered the room. Possibly sensing the tense atmosphere, Dojima cleared his throat.

“So. Hanamura, I need you to sign here.”

He pushed a lengthy piece of paper across the table, and Yosuke gawked. “What’s this for!? All I did was bring a model weapon into Junes!”

Dojima pulled a pen from his shirt pocket, unfazed, but clearly a bit frustrated. “It’s a confidentiality agreement. It’s to ensure that nothing we talk about here is leaked to the public. You’ll need to sign before we can continue.”

Skimming the paper, it seemed Dojima was telling the truth. He signed his name at the bottom, hesitantly looking up when he was done. Dojima took the pen and paper away.

“This is an incredibly important contract. Breaking this is grounds for legal action, and jail time. We’ll be providing you with a copy so that you can refer to it at any time. However, we keep the original. You can contact us at any time using the line outlined on the form. Do you understand?”

Yosuke nodded.

“Good. Now, this is who you’ll be working with. Weekdays, he’ll be here, or you can take him outside. Nobody can know who he really is, but he’s allowed to meet people. Weekends he’ll be at my place. The address and home phone are outlined on the papers.”

Yosuke looked over at the other teen, who was now looking straight at him. Grey eyes bore into him, and Yosuke awkwardly reached out a hand. 

“Hey, dude. We’re working together now, eh? What’s your name?”

The grey haired boy extended his own hand after some thought, and replied, voice almost a whisper: “Souji”.

Dojima scribbled something on a pad of paper. “He wouldn’t talk to any of the squad members. We have a room where you two can talk alone, would you like that, Souji?”

Souji’s eyes flicked onto Dojima for a split second before darting away, looking at Yosuke for something, _anything._ Yosuke took it as his chance to speak for both of them.

“I think that might be good for me and S-Souji, sir.”

 

***

Being alone with Yosuke did wonders for Souji. The room was set up like a kid’s playroom, probably used for talking with kids, but he didn’t seem to mind. He moved around the room, picking things up and examining them slowly. He’d been given different clothes than his suit, with the shirt and pants being too big for him, and they had to be secured by a length of cord. Combined with the setting, he looked like an oversized kid.

“Hey Souji, I’m uh, supposed to ask you some questions, okay?”

Souji turned, making his way over to the table that Yosuke had bunched himself up at. He sat on a pillow next to it. Now Yosuke felt kind of ridiculous. It was easier to sit on the floor than on the small chairs, but he had been determined to fit himself in a chair. He pushed his thoughts aside and looked at the piece of paper.

“So, where ya from?”

Souji looked down, frowning at the stuffed cat he had picked up. “Tokyo.”

“Anywhere specific?”

“From a bright place. Fourty-five minutes from the train station.”

_Huh. So this was how it was going to go._

“Uh, Alright!” Yosuke tried to keep his voice cheery, despite Souji’s unwillingness to cooperate. “We can try that one again later. Why did you come to Inaba? Why not stay in Tokyo? You’d think it’d be nicer there then a dirtbag town like this, huh?” He gave a slight chuckle, but it stopped in his throat when he saw the expression of pure terror on Souji’s face.

“I can’t go back!” Souji cried out, tears beginning to form in his eyes. His hands tightened on the stuffed cat, and Yosuke briefly wondered if its button eyes would pop off. “Please don’t make me!”

The brunet startled a bit at Souji’s outburst. He reached across the table to touch Souji’s shoulder, but the other boy skittered backwards. 

“Hey! Souji, it’s okay!” Yosuke put his hands out in front of him, like he’d so often watched his mom do to reassure the scared tomcat that hung around their old city house. “I won’t do anything! We can skip that one, okay?” 

He was closer to Souji now, able to sit next to him in the corner of the room. Tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder, Yosuke gave a soft smile. “I won’t hurt you, see? I promise.”

Souji stared, wide eyed at Yosuke’s hand, before leaning into the touch.

“Promise”

 

***

The rest of Yosuke’s time with Souji had been pretty uneventful. He’d gotten a few more details out of the other boy, like some landmarks from Tokyo (“A big restaurant next to home, with a flashing rainbow sign. And a secondhand shop across the alleyway.”) But not much else. Souji’s mouth shut like a vice, and any air of comfort immediately dissipated when a new question was asked.

Pulling out his phone, Yosuke noticed it was five o’clock, which meant he needed to be home for dinner soon. He said his goodbyes to Souji, promising that he’d visit again soon, and headed home. 

Souji really was something else.


	2. Escape - Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to how our hero got here. these look a billion times longer in word otl

Souji buttoned up the jacket from his suit. Sad grey eyes stared back from the mirror, piercing into his own. Brushing his hair out of his eyes, he moved to the bathroom, where Misuzu was waiting. She brings the brush along his eyelids, and Souji keeps his body still with years of practice. He feels something glide over his lips, and then opens his eyes for Misuzu to inspect. 

“Good enough.” She sighs, handing him a small packet. 

A condom. _This guy must’ve paid a lot._

He pockets the condom and slips on the slight heels Misuzu has picked for him. A nice outfit, almost black tie, but he knew he wasn’t going anywhere too fancy. Misuzu unlocked the door and led him out, into the waiting cab.

 

***

Arriving at the restaurant, Souji immediately notices that it’s nothing like he’s ever seen before. The waiter ushers Misuzu and him inside, and at mention of her name, seats them in the back, behind a large fish tank. Souji doesn’t want to gawk, he knows Misuzu would get mad, but they’re all so colourful and they dart about like coloured autumn leaves. The fish tank is wonderful except for the fact that it’s so large and dense that it obscures them from view of the other restaurant patrons, leaving their client to do whatever he pleases. Misuzu always books tables like this.

She’s very competent. 

Sometimes Souji wishes she wasn’t.

The client appears moments later, and Souji has to push the colourful fish from his mind as the man sits across from him, flashing a smile. Souji puts on his best ‘shy smile’, enough to put the man at ease, but not enough to make him seem too eager. That usually got the best results.

Misuzu and the client (‘Legion’, as he identifies himself), discuss trivial things about how the night is supposed to go, and then Misuzu gets up to leave. Souji wishes she wouldn’t, that she would tell the man “Actually, I’ve made a mistake, I’m taking Souji home,” and whisk him away, and he could go to a new town, with no men like the one before him. But she never does, she always leaves without so much as a word, and Souji is left for the jaws of man to swallow up.

Despite this, he doesn’t let his nerves show through, and he and Legion place their orders with a young waiter. He introduces himself as Izanagi, and does a low, sweeping bow. Souji doesn’t order too much, he doesn’t want it coming up later, and Legion gets a bottle of Pinot Noir to share, and a lobster dish.

Their food is brought out shortly, Souji taking a few sips of the wine while Legion takes fat gulps. Legion talks about his life, how stressful being a CEO is, and how his wife is such a nag, and how he barely has any time to have some fun for himself. Souji feels no remorse. When the rare question about him came up, Souji always answered with a well-practiced lie. People liked a backstory for the person sucking their dick, after all.

A sharp crack turns both their heads, and Souji notices, before anyone else, the spindling fingers of broken glass creeping up the side of the fish tank where the waiter fell into it. Izanagi grins, one of clumsy embarrassment, and they make brief eye contact before the glass gives way and water floods the dining hall. 

Legion leaps up, startled, and so does Souji. But instead of standing still, or moving away, Souji gives into his impulse to run. He leaps right into the pooling water and runs as fast as his feet will take him, a tangle of limbs and desperation. He runs past the now-smiling Izanagi, through the large double doors, and out into the busy streets of Tokyo. 

 

***

It’s only when he nears the train station that Souji stops to think about what the _fuck_ he just did.

Well. He couldn’t stay in Tokyo any longer, or Misuzu would find him for sure. He didn’t have any money, because Misuzu had all of his belongings, so he’d have to beg, or find a way onto the train without anyone seeing him. He reasoned it was about seven fourty-five, so he had a few trains to choose from, and a few hours to make that choice. It didn’t look like many people were taking westbound trains, which meant less security, but made it harder to sneak in without a ticket. He was almost ready to spend the night on a bench when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

“Are you lost?”

Souji whips around, a second away from hitting the stranger, when he spots the blue uniform the man is wearing. 

Train security.

The young man smiles, and Souji can see pity in his eyes. 

 

***

The man ducks his head into the ticket booth, tells the blonde woman inside something Souji can’t quite make out, and makes his way over to the nearby vending machine. He rolls some coins in and knocks it hard, on the top, and two drinks fall from the machine instead of one. He hands one to Souji, and they sit inside the break room. It’s painted blue, with soft velvet chairs. The purple can in Souji’s hand reads “TaP Soda”. The security guard starts to speak.

“Did you run away from home? We get a lot of runaways, and they all have your face. The aura, you know?”

Souji doesn’t know, but he finds himself nodding anyways.

“Why? Can’t make friends?”

He shakes his head.

“Can’t get a job?”

Another no.

“Hate the job you’ve got?”

Close, but no cigar.

“Then why are you here?”

Not for the first time, Souji finds himself unable to speak. He’s not going to spill the details of his life, of his job, or his living circumstances, with this… this stranger, but for a moment, it’s awfully tempting. So he says the first thing he can think of, and luckily, it’s true.

“I just can’t live here anymore. I’m not safe.”

The guard raises his eyebrows, waiting for more. But there’s no more to say. 

He coughs.

“We can make a deal. I’ve made it with people before, and I’ll make it with people again. I just need your word that you’ll try to complete the terms of this… contract, okay? You need to find strength in your bonds, and through that, find wholeness. Do you understand?”

Anywhere is better than here.

So Souji accepts.

The guard sticks his head into the ticket booth once more, and appears to be arguing with the woman inside. But when he faces Souji again, he’s holding a bright blue ticket. He presents it to Souji in an overly theatrical manner, and the ticket woman rolls her eyes. 

“Remember our contract, alright? Tell me your name, so we can make it official.” He holds out his hand, and Souji reaches out to take it.

And in that moment, for the first time in as long as he can remember, Souji has no reason to lie.

“My name is Souji Seta.”

 

***

The train ride gives Souji time to rest that he hasn’t had in ages. He’s always with a client, or Misuzu, or another one of Misuzu’s ‘workers’. Nobody else sat in the train car with him, so he’s blissfully, happily, wonderfully alone. The ticket in his hand reads “YASOINABA STATION”, so he assumes that’s his final destination. 

About halfway through the ride, a woman offers him snacks, and despite the pain in his stomach he declines. He tells her he’s forgotten his wallet, but she sees the pale blue of his ticket and something clicks in her head, because she gives him a drink and a sandwich “on the house”. Souji thanks her profusely, and after the door is shut again he begins to shove the food into his mouth, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Why were these people being so nice to him? If they knew what he was, then they wouldn’t want anything to do with him. He was just deceiving them.

He lets the thoughts stew in his head as he curls himself into his seat and succumbs to the thrall of sleep.

 

***

He wakes to the chimes of the robotic train announcer.

“Last stop, Yasoinaba Station! This is the last stop, Yasoinaba Station!” 

He scrambles to push grogginess from his mind, and manages to get off the train before it departs again. Souji looks around the deserted station, the town itself shrouded by heavy fog. He takes a step, legs shaking with anxiety, and another, before he has to catch himself on a nearby planter. 

Souji takes a moment to notice the flowers, foxgloves. They’re beginning to wilt, is it that late in the year already? September came so fast.

His head swims suddenly, and the food from earlier comes up, splattering into the dirt of the flowerbed. 

_“Shit,”_ Souji thinks. _“Somebody’s going to have to clean that up in the morning.”_ And then his legs give out beneath him. He falls to the ground, and passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stole the name of Taro's wife for the woman in this fic, but she's not the same. Izanagi, however? You Decide.


End file.
